Heaven's Angel
by AVickingsGirl
Summary: Freedom feels like the cold night air after 16 years of captivity. Love feels like the trust of a man you saved. Tophlovski
1. Chapter 1

Heaven's Angel-Chapter 1

The tip of a cigarette lit up in the dark night but was quickly snuffed out on the rooftop. A shadowy figure stood, slipped the pack into his pocket, and walked close to the edge. Looking down at the cars one hundred stories below him, he silently took a grappling hook from his rucksack with gloved hands. First, he dropped the rope then he secured the hook on the edge of the roof. Swinging his legs over the side, he gripped the rope and started his decent. One story down, then two. The third from the top was his destination. Looking in the first window he came across, he saw it was a dark, large, and most importantly empty living area.

Testing the window to see if, just by some off chance, it was open, he was no surprised to find out that it was securely locked. Inside, he heard the jingle of the doorknob "Marde…" He said to himself, more out of annoyance than fear. Slipping down the rope as to be out of eyesight, he saw the light come on and strained to hear anything, but couldn't.

Suddenly, the window to the left of him opened. Long pale arms pushed it open and out leaned the most beautiful creature the man had ever seen. Long, curly red hair spilled over lean and bare shoulders. Spotless skin gleamed in the city lights. But this face, this face with its high cheekbones, pouty pink lips, and huge green eyes just captivated the man. So much so that he forgot momentarily that he could very easily be seen. Luckily, this angel was looking up and squinting, as if he were trying to see the stars through the New York lights.

"Puppy?" A deep voice boomed through the whole room, although it was slightly muffled since it wasn't in the room. The angel, 'Puppy', jumped and ran from the window, forgetting to shut it. The lights shut of and a door closed. Almost as soon as the one door closed, another opened and heavy footsteps pounded through the dark room. The man took this opportunity to slip in through the open window, watching the back of a rather large man nearly rip the door that the angel must have gone through. This must be Cartman, the man thought to himself.

"Puppy," Cartman said menacingly "what did I tell you about leaving your room? What if someone had seen you? You could have been hurt."

"I'm sorry, Master," the angel whispered sweetly.

"Now," Cartman's voice was much more sedated this time, "I have just a little more work to do. Get into bed and wait for me."

"Yes, Master."

The man slipped behind a couch, the oldest trick in the book, as Cartman walked by him, never noticing the open window. Good, thought the man, this will be his escape route.

Alone again in the living room, he debated with himself for a moment whether he should go for speed or art in this mission. He could just go up behind Cartman, put a bullet in the back of his head, and go on with his life. Or, and this was become the more favorable option the more he thought about it, he could go see this "Puppy", maybe woo them (as he is known to do), then whenever Cartman comes back, he'll put a bullet or two in that large stomach, kiss the angel one more time, and sneak off into the night. Smiling, the man made his way to the angel's room.

Trying to be as quiet as he could, he pulled open the door to see a stark white room. White walls, white carpet, white bed with white posts and white curtains. No windows. The curtains were drawn. Inside them, he could hear a rustling and the curtains drew back to revel the angel, his hair standing out even more against the sea of white. The man was certain that he stood out even more with his tanned, scarred skin and old, baggy, brown and black clothing.

"Excuse me," the angel said, green eyes wide with curiosity and pink lips slightly parted, "But what are you doing in my room? Does Master know you're here?"

"Ov course, mon cherie," the man said in his heavily accented voice, "Your 'Master' know awll about me."

"What is your name?" Oh god, Christophe thought, this voice is going to haunt his dreams for weeks.

"Mon aime, you may call me Ze Mole, but ze more important question iz, vwhat is yours?" Christophe stepped closer to the angel, cupping his chin when he asked his name.

"Puppy."

"Non non non, vwhat is your real name?"

"Puppy."

Christophe looked at this little beauty in pure confusion. But before he could say anything else, he heard behemoth footsteps approaching the room. So, in pure playboy fashion, Christophe slipped into bed next to the boy and closed the curtains behind him.

"Now look, herez vwhere we play a little game, oui? We play ze game called 'silenz'. You don't speak, okay?"

"Okay…" There was hesitance in the angel's voice, but he complied nonetheless.

The door opened, much more softly then the last time Cartman did it. Christophe laid back on the pillows and curled his arm around the red head, fingering the gun at his side, slipping it out of it's holster but keeping it out of sight

"Puppy, I am sorry about how I treated you earlier, now let's…WHAT THE FUCK!" Eric Cartman flung back the curtains to see the missionary pointing a gun at him with an arm around his beloved puppy.

"Je suis desole, Monsieur Cartman, but your time on zis side is over." And with that, the trigger was pulled and the life of Eric Cartman was over.

"Well zat as anti-climatic." Christophe said disappointingly. "Ah well, it vwas lovely meeting you, mon cherie, mais…my time iz over." With that, Christophe exited the bed and stepped over Cartman's body, blowing the drug lord a kiss. As he was leaving the room, he didn't hear the little redhead slip out of bed. It was only when he was about to climb back out the window did he hear that soft voice again.

"Can I come with you?" In the doorway to his heavenly room, the redhead stood, looking nervous and white and oh so deliciously naked. Christophe took off his overcoat and threw it over the other's shoulders.

"Of course, mon aime," Christophe said. Pulling the angel close, he planted a big kiss on those ruby lips, slipping his tongue between them, deepening the kiss. When he pulled away, a rugged smile stretched across his face and he pulled the redhead though the window with him, disappearing into the night like the trained missionary he is.

I like this and am writing more, but I do hope you like this first chapter. Review if you want! I promise my little redhead gets much more character development in the chapters coming!


	2. Chapter 2

Heaven's Angel-Chapter 2

_A/N: Writing this fic does give me a good excuse to watch Bigger, Longer, and Uncut more times than should me socially acceptable. By movie standards, it's terrible, but hell, it is still my favorite! I got a request to do more backstory, and that really got the plot into action in my mind. Hopefully this will turn into everything I want it to be. Now, on with the show!_

16 years earlier

Kyle Broflovski sat in the third pew of his towns' Synagogue aimlessly flipping through the Torah, not really paying attention to the service. It was far too early in the morning for this high school freshman, and it showed in his unbrushed curly red hair. On top of this mound, his yarmulke was perched precariously. Next to him, his mother Sheila through his younger brother's hair, attempting to give at least one of her boys an acceptable appearance.

What happened next was a complete blur. The first shot came after the doors in the back were flung open and the glass shattered everywhere. The next shot hit the Rabbi square between the eyes. This broke the stunned silence that covered the crowd, causing all hell to break loose. Families broke up, mothers shoved young children under the pews, and more shots rang out. Kyle watched an elderly man hit the ground and blood pool on the ground. Strong hands of his father pushed him to the ground, forcing him to his hands and knees and under the pew. Next to him, his little brother Ike cowered into his arms. Wrapping his arms around him, Kyle tried to comfort his brother, whispering that he needed to be quiet and everything would be okay.

His words fell flat though, as he was whimpering himself. Kyle put his hands over Ike's eye, not wanting him to see the bullet casings fall to the ground around them, along with the bodies. He didn't see his parents, so he could only hope that they were safe somewhere.

Within moments, the noise completely stopped. No more screaming, no more gun shots, nothing. This was the most petrifying moment. Where were his parents? Did anyone else make it? Where were the murders? The answer the last question was answered almost right away, when large back boots stepped very close to Kyle's face. Ike knew to be quiet, not making a peep, but the boots didn't move on.

Suddenly, he was grabbed by the back of his hair and all he saw after that was the flash of a red armband with a black swastika on it.

Kyle awoke in a room full of people, completely naked, and on a stage. Other young boys from his Synagogue surrounded him, including Ike. He tried to go to him, but was restrained by a rope tied around his neck.

"God fucking damn it…" He said aloud, but was drowned out by the people in the crowd shouting and whistling and laughing. Some of the other boys on the stage were still out, heads hung forward and completely unaware. In a way, Kyle envied them. Others, like Ike, were wide awake, either looking nervously at the crowd of men before them or staring at the floor, refusing to meet their fate.

One by one, they were called up. And one by one, they were sold off to the highest bidder. Kyle saw Ike go to a skinny, frail man who spoke very little English. That's when he started to cry. God, if only Ike could have gotten away, if only Kyle knew where his precious little brother was going, then this whole situation would be better. Then he could handle being dragged to the front when it was his turn.

The man taking the bids talked him up real big. A virgin, redhead, thin. Perfect for someone who wanted a little Jewish princess. The pricing started high and only got higher. In a way, it should have been flattering, but pure fear kept his knees knocking and teeth chattering.

And just like that, it was done. A large man, well over six foot, was the winner. When he came up to collect his prize, Kyle was even more frightened. Big hands grabbed for his arms, taking him away from the stage. His head was shaved and his eyes were cold and dark. But there was something about his face that was…almost kind.

For a full day, he was put into a bathroom and told to shave every bit of his body hair, except his head.

"Fuck you, let me go!" Kyle screamed at him, fighting against the man that easily weighed twice as much as him. A hard slap against his cheek sent him flying back, hitting the wall.

"I am you master, now. I am your god," The man began, "If you want to live to ever see that fucking kike family of yours again, you will listen and do whatever I say."

Kyle spat on his feet. Another slap sent him reeling into the side of the counter, hitting his head.

When he woke up, he was alone in the room with the razor and a bottle of lotion on the counter he hit his head on. Stumbling to the door, he found it locked and pounded open handed on it.

"Let me out of here! You fucking butt-wipe! Let me go!" He continued until he was just too exhausted to do it anymore. Leaning against the door and sliding to the floor, he put his head in his hands.

Why the hell did this happen? Neo-nazis attacking a Synagogue in a small Colorado town that nobody cared about. Why? Where were his parents? The man did say if he played nice, then he would see them again. It could have just been a ploy though. It was probably just a game to get him to behave.

Hours later and the man still hadn't come back. Kyle was taking sips out of the sink. Finally, his stubbornness and pride just gave out and he just began the process of shaving himself clean, then putting lotion in the freshly shaved spots. He had to admit, his skin did feel pretty good. But he finished relatively quickly and the man still hadn't come back.

Thinking it was work a shot, he went to the door and knocked softly.

"I'm done," He said coldly, but calmly.

"FUCK, STOP! God fucking damn it, please stop!" Kyle cried as the man pounded him for the first time in a completely white bedroom.

Years went by, and Kyle's spirit and fight died with them. He spent his life in the bedroom and bathroom, force fed drugs like ecstasy and to be the play thing for his master and whomever else the master let in. He must keep his body shaved at all times and clothes were never given to him. His hair grew long and the curls now bounced around his shoulders, kept beautiful by daily showers and weekly hair treatments that he must do. If he did everything he was told to, he was left alone. If not, he was beaten and raped.

Kyle lost track of the years when Master came into his room with a man he had never seen before following him. Quickly, Kyle left his bed to greet his master with a kiss on the top of his shoes. But Master held him up this time, bringing him close to kiss his lips.

"Kike, this is my son. You will treat him as you are expected to treat me. Eric," He addressed the man next to him, "happy birthday." With that, he left the room.

This new Master, Eric, then turned to Kyle with a very malicious smile.

"Now, aren't you a sight? How selfish of my father to keep you locked away all this time. As much I would love to have you keep your name, I'm sorry but you're all mine now." He cupped Kyle's chin. He was just as tall as his father, but slightly girthier. "Your new name is Puppy, and you will only call yourself Puppy. Is that understood?" Kyle was too frightened to do anything but nod. This man before him oozed evil.

"Good, now get into bed." Kyle did as he was told. New Master sat on the edge of the bed and tied off his arm, took a needle that Kyle didn't see him get from anywhere and inserted it into his arm. He then handed Kyle a very familiar looking pill. Kyle took it and laid back.

Kyle never saw Master again and New Master was much more neglectful. He would leave Kyle alone for days. But sometimes, when Kyle was really good and did everything that he was told, Kyle was allowed to go out into the living room just outside his bedroom. For the first time in years, he was allowed to see the outside. But it had to be during the day and he had to be accompanied by New Master.

One night, New Master forgot to lock the door after he brought Kyle back into his room for the night. He waited until New Master had left the living room and he snuck back out, opened a window, and stared off into the night. He loved the feeling of the fresh air on his skin, having long since gotten over his fear of his nakedness.

Then he heard the stomping of his master. Out of fear, he ran back to his room and forgot to close the window. New Master must have known he was out because he came back and scolded him. Kyle knew he got away with something he shouldn't have and was very thankful that his scolding wasn't much more severe.

That was the night that he thin stranger with the wonderful came into his room, shot his master, and ran out.

It had been sixteen years since he had last heard a gunshot. With it, came back the memories of everything he spent years trying to forget. And here it was. Here was his chance to get out of here, to be a person again. To have a name.

Before anybody who might have heard the shot came running in, he followed the stranger.

"Can I come with you?" He asked. He was then pulled into a kiss unlike anything he had felt before. He was kissed by a lot of men in a lot of different ways, but there was something different about this. Perhaps because it was the first kiss he had ever had that was in a time of freedom.

A heavy coat was put around his shoulders, the first piece of clothing he had worn in sixteen years, and he was pulled out the window into the night. As they ascended a rope that was already there, he thought to himself: a family-less, friendless Puppy was left down below, Kyle is finally allowed to have the life he had been denied.


	3. Chapter 3

Heaven's Angel-Chapter 3

Freedom was clinging to a man who, before he broke in and killed the man who had kept you captive for sixteen years, was a virtual stranger as he scaled the side of a building. Exhilaration was running in the shadows with no shoes on and a thick coat laden down with god only knows what kind of weapons. Fear was glancing over your shoulder, expecting at any moment for there to be an aggressor from your past just about to grab you and take you back.

Kyle watched as 'ze Mole' punched a few numbers into a keypad at their destination. There was a buzz and the mercenary swung the heavy looking door wide open, allowing Kyle to go in first. Christophe put a guiding hand on Kyle's lower back and directed him through the hallway and up a flight of stairs. On either side of them on both stories were doors, leading Kyle to believe that this is some sort apartment building. Christophe wasn't saying a word, so Kyle followed in suite and kept quiet.

Then, at the end of the second story hallway, Christophe pounded on a door.

"Password?" Came a voice from the other side. It almost sounded…amused.

"Sheet, you can see me, you bitch! Now let me in," Christophe seethed, kicking the door for good measure. Kyle looked and saw that there was indeed a little peephole in the door.

"No way, dude, looks like you have a little tag along with ya. Can't let you in," The person on the other side laughed, actually laughed, as they watched Christophe fume.

"Fuck, he's with me. Just let me in and I'll explain everything."

"Fine, fine, come in." With that, the bolt on the door slid back and it swung open, revealing a tall blonde dressed completely in black. Unlike Christophe, this man looked perpetually happy, as if his lips were just made to be in a constant smile. Unfortunately like Christophe, he had premature age lines, but not the crows feet and frown lines Christophe sported, no, these were pure laugh lines.

They went into the small, dingy apartment with Christophe leading Kyle towards a couch against the wall. Christophe sat and pulled Kyle down with him.

"Beer?" The blonde asked.

"Oui," Christophe answered, sounding exacerbated.

"And one for him?" He asked again, gesturing towards Kyle.

"Ye…sheet man, I sink I killed ze wrong man!" Christophe exclaimed. Kyle realized now why the man who had been so kind and warm to him hadn't said a word to him since they left his master behind.

"Fuck dude, what do you mean?" The blonde yelled from the kitchen, where he was fetching the beers.

"It must have been his son, it was far too young to be him," Christophe explained, his head in his hands.

"Ah well, dude, you win some you lose some. And it doesn't exactly look like you lost here," The blonde smirked, eying Kyle.

"You fucking faggot, this is my reputation on ze line!"

"By the way, I'm Kenny," He extended his hand towards Kyle and realization dawned on the redhead.

"Sheet, you aren't supposed to tell him your real name!" Christophe complained.

"So what's your name?" Kenny continued, ignoring his ranting French friend.

"All he would tell me is Pup…" Christophe began, before Kyle cut him off.

"Kyle. Kyle Broflovski. Kenny…"  
"Ov fucking course he would tell you…"

"Oh my god! Kyle?! You went missing…

"Kenny McCormick!"

"You two know each other?"

"Kyle, you're supposed to be dead!" Kenny said, grabbing his friend's hands. "The shooting…they said those that were taken... I went to your family's funeral…"

"So my mother and father are dead…" Kyle said quietly, bowing his head. This whole time, he knew that it was improbable for them to be alive, but he had still hoped.

"Can someone tell me what ze fuck is going on here!?" Christophe shouted at the pair.

"Kyle and I were friends…a long time ago. From kindergarten until that day, Kyle and I would hang out all the time. He was my best friend," Kenny smiled at Kyle, the exact smile you would expect from someone who had been separated from their best friend for so many years.

"So," Christophe said, clapping his hands together and standing up off the couch, "Since zes two friends are reunited and I need to get my mind off of today, how about we celebrate, eh? In good French style!" With that, Christophe darted for the kitchen.

"It really is rare I get to see him so excited, so be honored," Kenny laughed and moved to sit next to his friend.

"Um…Kenny…" Kyle said softly.

"Yeah dude?" Kenny replied. "And why are you talking so quietly? Speak up, dude!"

"You try being forced to be quiet for almost twenty years and see how apt you are to shout right away," Kyle mumbled, "Anyway, I am…well…I'm naked." He finished bluntly.

"Shit dude! Sorry! Yeah, I'll go grab you some clothes." Kenny leaped up and strolled through the apartment, passing Christophe on his way back. The Frenchman was balancing three mismatched glasses and three bottles of wine, each with the cork undone. He himself was sporting a rather large grin as he looked down into his arms.

"Beautiful, no? Come here, mon aime, and grab some of this for me," Kyle, eager to finally be useful in some way, darted up and grabbed two of the bottles from Christophe. But as he was standing, the coat perched on his shoulders slipped off, leaving him completely in the nude in the middle of the living room.

"Ah," twirking up his accent as he normally does when ladies are around, "But zis iz even more beautiful." Christophe set what was in his arms down and ran a hand through Kyle's tangled strands. "Now, it wouldn't be a proper French party if we didn't give a proper French greeting." As Christophe leaned in, Kyle could only stare at him, a look of complete shock on his face. It is one thing to kiss in the heat of the moment, like before, but now it made Kyle think that Christophe had saved him only to make him a sex slave again. His saving grace came in the form of one Kenneth McCormick.

"Hey! Hands off the long lost best friend, douche hole," Kenny said not-so-jokingly to Christophe, who retracted his hand and mumbled some French obscenities. "Here Kyle, hopefully these will fit." He threw some clothes at the red head, which Kyle quickly slipped on.

"Now that he is clothed, let us begin!" Christophe said excitingly, looking at the treasure of booze surrounding him.

One bottle gone within a half hour, two gone within the hour. They didn't make it through the third before Kenny declared he was tired and going to bed, putting Christophe in a sour mood.

"Look dude," Kenny said when Christophe complained, "you fucked up big today and who's going to have to deal with it tomorrow? Me. Because I always have to clean up after you."

"Oh so now you're worried," Christophe teased. Kyle marveled at how their personalities switch when they're drunk. Kenny rolled his eyes and walked away, into the only bedroom and shut the door.

Kyle was quite obviously the drunkest, unable to keep his eyes open and his head swayed side to side. "You know," Kyle slurred, "I have been drugged more times than I can count, but never have I been drunk."

"Well, I am so happy I could be here for zis," Christophe purred.

"So what now?" Kyle asked, looking at the Frenchman, who was staring deep into his glass.

"Now, ve have one ov two options. Ve can drink vwhat iz left of sis," He pointed to the last bottle, his accent growing thicker with every sip."Or, you vill let me finish vwhat I started before."

Kyle was in no condition to allow Christophe to be intimate in any way with him, but Christophe was far too gone to care what condition Kyle was in. So, Kyle slowly nodded, hoping Christophe knew what this meant.

And he did. He slipped his hands through that fire hair and brought the Jewish man close to him, looking into those hazy green eyes for just a moment before lowering his mouth onto the others. He took it slow at first, just a simple kiss, but when Kyle melted into him Christophe lost what little control he had.

He pulled Kyle on top of him and when Kyle gasped in surprise, Christophe took this opportunity to slip his tongue inside. His manhood grew rock hard when Kyle moaned, deepening the kiss on his own. Christophe flipped Kyle so his back was on the couch and climbed on top of him, resuming the kiss and slowly grinding their erections together.

This is when Kyle came to. He remembered everything from the past sixteen years in one moment; every single time some act like this was unwanted. But this was different, he wanted this, but it didn't stop the memories. Before he knew it, he was crying while kissing the gorgeous man atop him.

"Sheet," Christophe mumbled when he realized what Kyle was doing. "Vwhat is wrong?"

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry…please don't hate me," Kyle sobbed, curling into a ball.

Sighing, Christophe climbed off of Kyle and laid down next to him, wrapping his arms around the heaving body,

"Shh, it will be alright, I promise," He continued to whisper sweet nothings into Kyle's ear. "I'll protect you from now on. No one will ever harm you again." He wasn't sure how long they laid there before they fell asleep, all he knew was even with a face full of curly hair and an asleep arm, this was the best sleep he had gotten in a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Heaven's Angel-Chapter 4

Kyle awoke to the distinct smell of bacon wafting through the small apartment. New Master had loved bacon and so often smelled it on him, although it had always disgusted him then. But now, with an incessant pounding in his head, it smelled like heaven. Sitting up, the whole world seemed to spin and he had to lay back down almost immediately to keep from throwing up.

"Ah, ze poor boy haz a hangover!" Christophe nearly shouted, standing at the doorway to the kitchen. In his hands, he held a plateful of that wonderful smelling pork. "Come, have some bacon and you will feel alllll better," Christophe all but purred.

Clenching his jaw, Kyle held down bile that threatened to escape. "I can't eat that."

"Vwhat do you mean?"

"He's Jewish, dude," Kenny answered for Kyle, stepping out of the bathroom with one towel around his waist and another in his hands, drying his hair. Kyle smiled at his friend in thanks. He was taken by an anti-Semite organization and sold off, of course no one cared about his religious practices, and when he hadn't eaten for three days he could care less if the food was kosher or not. It was just another affirmation of freedom.

"Oh…" Christophe looked a little dejected. Kenny saw this almost immediately.

"Christophe," Kenny began to explain, waltzing to the Frenchman "is very proud of his cooking abilities. It's a French thing." With that, he took a strip of meat off the plate at bit into it.

"It's no matter," Christophe covered quickly, cheeks turning a shade of pink "I have other, more Jewish-friendly, food. Do you like waffles?"

They all ate together, crushed around a tiny, rickety table. Kyle had two glasses of orange juice and a stack of waffles in an effort to quell his hangover. The whole time, he watched Kenny and Christophe spar, with Kenny pushing Christophe's buttons and Christophe swearing and calling him a 'son of a beech' every time, fueling Kenny on. It was actually quite entertaining.

"You know 'Tophe," Kenny said after a slight second of silence, "I know you're British and all…"

"FUCK OFF YOU SICK SON OF A BEE…"

Christophe wasn't able to finish his sentence. The door to the apartment, which was visible from the table, was kicked off it's hinges. In one second flat, Kenny pulled Kyle up and whipped him into the kitchen, out of sight. Kyle caught a flash of the gun that Christophe pulled out of seemingly nowhere before the kitchen door was closed behind him.

Out there, Kenny had pulled his own weapon out and was pointing it along with Christophe as a set of five men, each with their own gun. Kenny side-eyed his companion, silently asking the plan. Christophe, not so silently, set off the first shot, hitting one of the intruders in the throat, sending him down. All hell broke loose, bullets flying everywhere as Christophe and Kenny took cover.

In the kitchen, Kyle cowered into a corner, memories flooding him of the last time he heard such open gunfire. Blinking through the tears, he desperately tried to figure out a way to do something, to be helpful. The last time he was in a situation like this, he didn't do anything. Not that he could have done much, but the urge was still there of course. Quickly, he pulled himself up off the floor and searched frantically through the drawers, not caring about how much noise he made. It was drowned out anyway. Inside them, he found a large knife, although it looked slightly dull. Groaning in frustration, he tossed it to the ground and continued his search, growing more and more frantic as each bullet on the other side of the door went off.

Christophe had flipped over the table and the remnants of their meal went flying. Ducking behind it. He looked over and saw that Kenny had hid behind the wall that lead to the bathroom. Three of the men were dead. Kenny and Christophe wouldn't get as much work as they did if they weren't good at what they did. In a brief moment, Christophe thought up a plan to get rid of the last two and signaled to Kenny to cease-fire.

While the last two took a few nervous steps forward, nearly climbing over their fallen comrades, Christophe quickly ripped off his shirt and threw it out where they could see it. The obviously untrained gunman started shooting that the clothing, just trigger happy to shoot anything that moved.

Kyle was unnerved by the silence, clutching a butcher knife in his hand, ready to fight if anyone came into the kitchen. Then came the quick flash of bullets, these one impaling themselves into the door.

While the strangers were distracted, Christophe and Kenny just peaked their guns around their barricades, fired just one shot, and then it was over.

"Sheet…" Christophe said, finally taking note of his own body. A bullet was buried in his left arm and blood was streaming out. It certainly wasn't the first time he had been shot, but the sharp sting that took over his body never went away.

But the sound of sirens snapped him into action again.

"Mysterion," Christophe said, careful not to use Kenny's real name just incase there was someone still alive, or a bug somewhere, "Get ze angel out of here"

"What about you, Mole?" Kenny asked, already making his way toward the kitchen.

"I am going to take care of a few things first, I'll catch up with you later," Christophe replied, walking in the opposite direction, towards the bedroom. Kenny disappeared into the kitchen and Christophe walked over the dead men in his living room. Quickly, with the sirens growing closer, Christophe pulled out an old duffel bag and filled it with a few things of clothing and all the money he could find, which turns out there was quite a bit.

"Sheet," He said "Were we really here zat long? God, zis is almost four jobs!" Kenny and Christophe never stayed in one place for that long, so to have nearly twenty thousand dollars in a dresser drawer was quite an unusual sight.

But there wasn't much time to dwell on that now, he heard cop cars screech to a halt outside of the building and Christophe could only hope that Kenny got Kyle out in time.

Kenny busted into the kitchen to see Kyle with his back pressed against the refrigerator, clutching their one good knife in the whole apartment and almost laughed at just how much he held it like a bitch, but now was not the time for that.

"Come on, we need to go," Kenny said, reaching out and grabbing the knife from Kyle and throwing it on the ground.

"What happened, Ken…"Kyle began

"Don't say my name, we just have to go," Kenny stopped him, opening the window above the sink. "We gotta go. Now." Looking out, Kenny didn't see any cop cars or pedestrians so he swung out onto the fire escape before helping Kyle out. Now, there was one of two options they could do. They could go down to the street and make a run for it and hope that Christophe would find them, but that would also make it easier for the police. Or they could go to the roof and make it much easier Christophe to find them but also get them stuck if the police found them up there.

A quick decision, but taking into the account that nobody knew Kyle was there and he still didn't see any police cars, he figured they must be on the other side of the building and Christophe's job is to find people, he decided to go down.

One story at a time, they basically slide down. Above them, they hear nothing and the sirens haven't stopped, so they keep going. Once on the street, Kyle takes a look upward, trying to find the window they came out of only a few moments ago.

He found it almost right away, with blazing flames shooting out the window.


	5. Chapter 5

A quick Authors Note: Thank you everybody who is reading this, it really does mean a lot. I am so sorry about how crappy the last chapter was, I wrote it last night and let's just say when campus safety raids your room for drugs when you clearly don't have any for the third time in one night, your nerves get a little shot. Anyway, I hope you're enjoying the story so far, now that I actually have to continue it on.

Heaven's Angel-Chapter 5

Christophe let off a string of French of profanities when he heard the loud thudding of people in the hallway, coming towards his apartment. He ran to the kitchen and with all his strength ripped the stove from the wall, disconnecting the gas line. He hopped up on the window sill, still left open from Kenny and Kyle's escape. From his pocket, he pulled out the pack of matches he always had one him and stuck one, then set the burning tip to one still in the pack. While the whole back was ablaze, he threw it to the ground near an old dish towel that hung just a little too close to the ground.

Slipping out onto the fire escape, he heard the cops enter the apartment. Before they got an opportunity to investigate where he was, he slipped up a floor, then another, all the way to the roof. He could smell fire and this made him smile, knowing that the towel caught. It would only be a moment or two more before his life from there would disappear. Again.

Peaking over the edge, he tired to find a mass of red hair in the crowd that was starting to gather, but saw nothing.

Then came the boom and the whole building shook. Once he regained his balance, Christophe looked to the buildings next to him, gauging which one was closest. Taking a deep breath, he took off in a sprint and took a leap of faith, making the ten foot gap between the buildings. Although he did land on his ass, he was still quite proud of himself for making it.

With a smirk imprinted on his lips, he scaled down this building's fire escape and slipped into the first window he came across that was open. In this kitchen, he came face to face with a pretty raven-haired woman.

Kenny stopped and looked back, realizing that the redhead wasn't following him anymore. He saw Kyle staring up at the building, fear filling his eyes. Following his friend, Kenny looked up and saw that their apartment was on fire. Sighing, knowing that this wasn't nearly as bad as it looked, he started tugging Kyle, urging him along.

"Come on, Ky," Kenny assured him, "He's alright, this happens all the time."

"All the time!?" Kyle shouted, reeling around and facing his friend.

"Yes, I'll explain everything soon, just come on!" Kenny pulled him with more force, making Kyle stumble along with him.

When well out of sight of the fire, they slipped into a quiet coffee shop. Inside, it was obvious the patrons hadn't yet heard about the fire a couple blocks away.

Kenny ordered them both drinks and instructed Kyle to sit down, taking note that the only other patrons were an older couple on the opposite side of the room.

"Tell me what's going on, Kenny," Kyle demanded in a strong voice, although he was still visibly shaking.

"Look, Kyle, ya gotta be quiet dude, you really never know who's around," Kenny warned, before taking a deep breath and continuing on. "Christophe and I are hired assassins. Christophe kinda recruited me a couple years after you disappeared. He's been in the business for god knows how long, but damn, it's good money."

Kenny paused to take a sip of his coffee, gauging Kyle's reaction. All he was doing was watching him intently.

"When he took you last night…God, was that really only last night…he accidently took out the wrong guy…"

"But who pays you to do it?" Kyle interjected, eyes wide and mouth drawn tight.

"Whoever can find us. Normally warring drug lords or some shit like that. But when Christophe fucked up yesterday, he unleashed a whole lot of trouble we don't need. Those guys that came in? Cartman's goonies. God damn it, Christophe, he killed his damn son…"

"Yeah, New Master..." Kyle said, thinking of the first time he saw Christophe, which seemed eons ago now, and how the bullet Christophe put into Eric's stomach made almost a perfect, red hole.

"New Master?" Kenny questioned, eyes growing wide at Kyle's terminology.

"Well yeah, they never let me call them their real names. Hell, I never even knew first Master's name," Kyle sneered, anger bowling inside of him.

Christophe's eyes lit up, eyeing the woman who was putting groceries away.

"Um…who are you? What are you doing here?" The woman said curiously, but not with anger.

"Ah, bonjour, mon Cherie!" Christophe all but purred, amping up his accent, "you see, my name ees Phillip, and my beloved ees quiet abusive. Ie told her zat Ie waz leeving and she shot me. Iz zere anyzing you can do for me?"

He showed her his arm, the blood now completely soaking his shirt sleeve.

"Oh!" Here brown eyes growing impossibly wide. "It's your lucky day, I just happen to be a nurse." She said it so proudly that Christophe couldn't help but smile.

"Sank you zo vhery much," Christophe said as he climbed through the window fully.

"By the way, my name is Wendy," She said as she led him to the living room, which was the exact same as the one he just blew up, but better decorated.

"You see, I'm only living here right now because I wanted to come to this city because it's so nice and there was nothing available right as I wanted to move here so this is where I have to stay but my realtor is looking for something better blah blah blah…" She was babbling so much that Christophe just tuned her out, only giving out the 'ah's' and 'mhm's' when needed.

She continued to talk even when she pulled out a needle and some thick thread. "So why don't you just go to the hospital?"

"Ah, you see, az a French citizen, Ie don't 'ave any insurance, nor money." Wendy nodded as if it made complete sense. She had sterilized a pair of long needle nose pliers and took his arm in strong, warm hands.

"Now, Phillip, this is going to hurt," She warned him, looking into his eyes through thick lashes.

"Oh, zat iz okay, belle," Christophe flirted back, winking as he spoke. But as he watched the pliers come close, he grit his teeth and looked away, clenching his eyes shut and taking a sharp breath when she started to bury into him.

Luckily, she seemed trained in this, and the bullet was out in seconds and she was sewing him up. This part was just as painful, and lasted longer.

When she was done, Christophe looked at her work with her satisfied smirk.

"Ah, belle, zis is just beautiful work, sank you," Christophe said as he flashed his most charming smile at her.

"Wendy! The building next to us is on fire!" A man also with black hair shouted as he busted into the apartment. "WHO THE FUCK IS THIS!"

"Well looks like our time is over, Cherie, au revoir!" Christophe slipped out of the apartment almost as quickly as he came, leaving the two behind. He slipped down the fire escape, along with a number of other people who were trying to get out of the building. Easily, he blended into the crowed. His new task was to find his friend and his angel.

"And then, they just…they fucking sold me, just like a fucking horse, to Master." Kenny hadn't even prodded, Kyle just started telling him everything that happened. At first, Kenny was taken a back, shocked and slightly horrified at what Kyle had gone through.

"I wish…I wish I just knew if Ike was alive. If some member of my family was still alive, then I wouldn't feel so alone…"

"You know Kyle," Kenny said with a smile, "After we find Christophe, we can try to find Ike." He left out 'if he is still alive', just to save Kyle as much pain as he could.

"Are you serious, Kenny? We can do that?" For the first time since Kenny saw Kyle again, he saw genuine happiness in his eyes.

But before he could say anything more, a very familiar face went walking by the coffee shop. Christophe was knawing at the cigarette in his mouth, obviously agitated.

"Christophe!" Kenny called, still in the shop. Kyle looked towards where Kenny was calling and Kenny couldn't help but see that exact same look in his eyes that he had when Kenny brought up finding Ike.

"Come on, dude, let's go get him," Kenny said warily, knowing this was going to end up being a very sticky situation.


End file.
